


Threads Of Glass

by neoculture_dorkology



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Jongho is Hongjoong's little brother, M/M, Violence, tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoculture_dorkology/pseuds/neoculture_dorkology
Summary: Kim Hongjoong might be rough around the edges and intent on ensuring the rules are followed, but when one of his own is harmed, he won't stand by and let it happen.Or, Yeosang vanishes, and Hongjoong will find him – no matter the cost.





	Threads Of Glass

All things considered, Hongjoong wouldn’t describe Seonghwa as _rash_ ; hasty, perhaps, but only when the situation calls for it. For instance, moments like this, when there’s a bloody knife sticking out of Hongjoong’s table and a note scrawled into his wall that is anything but pleasant.

Seonghwa storms out, his expression dark and coat snapping in the air behind him.

In a way, it’s impressive; or it would be, if Hongjoong wasn’t so accustomed to such behavior from his old friend.

The man snorts, spying Seonghwa’s gloves on the counter. Most likely, Hongjoong should take them to Seonghwa; it seems like the proper thing to do, but he knows Seonghwa will return later, and honestly, he doesn’t entirely enjoy being in the presence of a raging Seonghwa.

His thoughts are taken off of Seonghwa when Mingi crashes through the door, supporting San. Hongjoong studies them – San’s dead on his feet, Mingi practically carrying him.

Hongjoong is on his feet and striding into the living area before Mingi can even finish saying his name, taking some of San’s weight.

He and Mingi put him in Jongho’s bed and Hongjoong returns to his kitchen and his chair, Mingi trailing behind him. He’s like a puppy. Large, excitable, incredibly loyal, prone to following Hongjoong around. Annoying at times, but all in all, a trusted member of Hongjoong’s team.

Hongjoong settles in his chair, feet on the table, and stares at Mingi, heavy and expectant. The taller man shuffles around for a moment – Hongjoong weighs Mingi’s discomfort and surmises that he and San have done something they weren’t supposed to.

Altogether, unsurprising. San and Mingi have never been good at following rules.

Hongjoong waits for Mingi to speak, however. He’s patient, and he has time. With Seonghwa out taking care of other unpleasant business, Hongjoong can tend to this – whatever _this_ is. He has the feeling that he won’t like whatever Mingi’s about to say.

That’s also unsurprising.

It takes Mingi a minute to stop fidgeting and take a seat, sitting rigid and stiff-backed in front of the table. He doesn’t sit like that often, and it further supports Hongjoong’s conclusion that he and San have done something that they _know_ was stupid.

“San got in a fight,” Mingi finally says, eyes downcast.

Hongjoong continues to stare at him.

Mingi’s lips press together and he exhales. “San _picked_ a fight,” he corrects himself, “at the skate park.”

Hongjoong’s feet swing off of the table and strike the floor, the thump making Mingi flinch. The short man stands, irritation thrumming through his entire being as he strides to the kitchen window and throws it open.

The chilly air doesn’t make things much better, but perhaps it will help the smell of bleach air out after he’s cleaned up the mess in the kitchen.

“And what then?” Hongjoong asks as he sits back down. His feet don’t go back on the table, and Mingi’s eyes flit to him nervously.

Clearly, he can see that Hongjoong’s in no mood for bullshit.

He licks his lips, glances at the window, and then fixes his gaze back on the table - irritating, because Hongjoong likes eye contact, but Hongjoong will scold him for that later. “I… gave him a hand.”

“He picked the fight, he should have been able to finish it on his own.”

Mingi looks up, surprise etched in every line of his face, and Hongjoong snorts at him. “There are rules for a reason, Mingi. We don’t go picking fights in _skating parks_. Unless San’s life was in danger, you should have let him handle his own mistakes.”

“But they said Y-”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow arches, and it kills whatever protest Mingi might have had in his throat. He stops talking and drops his gaze back to the tabletop.

“It doesn’t matter what people say. We don’t pick fights, especially not in public places. Focus on the important things.” Hongjoong stands up, jerks the knife out of his table, and drops it in a bin. “I’ll deal with you and San when he wakes up.”

It honestly won’t do Hongjoong any good to scold San when he’s too tired to register a single word the man’s saying.

Mingi fidgets, clears his throat, and asks, “What happened in here?”

“Break-in.” Hongjoong’s answer is short as he kneels on the floor, digging under the sink for bleach and cleaning rags buried in the very back of the cabinet for this very purpose.

“Jongho?”

“He’s safe at school. I went out for thirty minutes and came back to this.” Hongjoong gestures to the scrawls on the wall and the stabbed, bloody table. Pouring bleach and water into a bowl, he sighs through his nose. There’s also blood in his sink.

“That’s good to hear.” Mingi gets up and walks over to the wall, grimaces at the message, and turns. “Do you still have paint?”

“No. There’s a painting in my bedroom. Jongho gave it to me. Go get it.” Hongjoong dips a rag into the bleach, inhales, and strides over to the table with his mixing bowl full of cleaning solution.

Once his table and sink are clean, Hongjoong sets a fruit bowl over the place where the knife had been impaled, and helps Mingi hang the painting to his specifications. It covers the note, thankfully, and is mostly inconspicuous - Jongho is accustomed to Hongjoong’s random redecorating sprees.

Perhaps Hongjoong has conditioned him to them for this very reason, so he won’t question when Hongjoong changes things up. Jongho doesn’t know about the things Hongjoong is involved in, and he’d like to keep it that way.

Forty minutes later, Seonghwa storms back through the door, disrupting the tense silence between Mingi and Hongjoong. There are questionable red stains on his coat, and he still looks livid, but a little less so. Hongjoong observes that there are red streaks in his hair, and his hands are covered in blood.

Thankfully, not enough to drip everywhere; Hongjoong really doesn’t feel like scrubbing his floor.

“We need to talk,” Seonghwa starts, and then he sees Mingi and his lips press together in a frown, like he’s not sure what to make of his presence. “Mingi.”

Hongjoong points at Jongho’s room, and Mingi falls over his chair in his hurry to get up and out of the room. He sets it up but knocks it down again when he darts off, and Hongjoong gets up to set the chair properly.

“There’s blood all over you,” Hongjoong points out.

Seonghwa looks down at himself and makes a soft _ah_ , like he hadn’t even realized or noticed. He clears his throat. “Right, I’ll clean up later.”

“Before I pick Jongho up,” Hongjoong murmurs softly. It sounds like a question, but it’s more of a command – not that he can really _force_ Seonghwa to do anything. The older man listens to him out of respect.

“Naturally.” Seonghwa sits down. “Hongjoong…”

Hongjoong waves his hand in the air, motioning for him to continue. Contrary to popular belief, Hongjoong doesn’t read minds, and his quota of patience for the day is already gone.

“It’s Yeosang.”

Hongjoong frowns. “Yeosang?”

Out of all the members of the team, Yeosang’s one of the least problematic. Hongjoong rarely ever has trouble of any sort with Yeosang. He keeps his nose clean and stays out of trouble, unlike Mingi and San. He’s… not difficult in the slightest. So, then, it's unlikely that he's done anything...

“What happened?”

“That’s what I don’t know,” Seonghwa answers grimly.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong’s in no mood for cryptic answers.

“I mean Yeosang is _missing_ , Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong freezes, the blood in his veins running cold. “Missing,” he repeats, the word tasting foreign. “Are you certain?”

Seonghwa fixes him with one of those _looks_ – the ones that can make even Hongjoong feel like a fool. “Of course I’m certain. Why else would I say something about it?” he demands. He’s cranky, but that’s to be expected of Seonghwa when they're in such a situation.

Hongjoong exhales, runs a hand through his hair. “Did you see anything that would suggest outside force was used?”

In response, Seonghwa fishes something out of his coat pocket and lays it on the table in front of Hongjoong. Even despite the blood dried on the item, it only takes him a moment to recognize what it is.

Yeosang's necklace. 

Hongjoong curses, stands up again, and paces his kitchen. Seonghwa’s eyes follow him, his companion silent so Hongjoong can brainstorm in peace.

“Yeosang,” Hongjoong finally says.

“Yes.”

“ _Why_ Yeosang?” Hongjoong demands, staring at the wall – at the painting covering what had been scrawled into white paint. He pauses, and then turns slowly to stare at Seonghwa.

“Am I missing something?” the elder asks quietly.

“No. I think we all are.” Hongjoong rubs his chin, striding toward the window. “Don’t let Mingi and San leave.”

“I won’t,” Seonghwa promises. “What are you doing?”

Hongjoong grins, a cheeky grin that is only seen by Seonghwa and Jongho, and pops out the window screen. He swings his feet out and then pushes himself out, Seonghwa shouting behind him.

“There’s a _door_ , Kim Hongjoong!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first ATEEZ fic so I'm very excited to write about my lovely boys UwU expect bad characterization and writing, because I suck at this. Also, stan ATEEZ and adore all the members.  
> Pieces of the Say My Name M/V made me do this.
> 
> Also, the title is probably temporary since I can't do titles.


End file.
